| You who are on the road,
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| Must have a code,
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| That you can live by,
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| And so become yourself,
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| Because the past
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| Is just a good-bye.
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| Teach your children well,
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| Their father’s hell
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| Did slowly go by,
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| And feed them on your dreams,
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| The one they pick,
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| Is the one you’ll know by.
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| Don’t you ever ask them why
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| If they told you you would cry,
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| So just look at them and sigh,
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| And know they love you.
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| And you of tender years,
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| Can’t know the fears,
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| That you elders grew by,
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| And so please
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| Help them with your youth,
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| They seek the truth,
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| Before they can die.
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| Teach your parents well,
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| Their children’s hell,
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| Will slowly go by And feed them on your dreams
|
| The one they pick,
|
| Is the one you’ll know by.
|
| Don’t you ever ask them why
|
| If they told you you would cry,
|
| So just look at them and sigh,
|
| Don’t you ever ask them why
|
| If they told you you would cry,
|
| So just look at them and sigh,
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| And know they love you. |